Conquered
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: They were two of the greatest warriors in the ancient world. Their meeting on the battlefield of Troy would be forever immortalized in one simple phrase- "And she, with her beauty, conquered the conqueror."
1. Introduction: A History

**Author's Note**: I am obsessed with the mythology of the Trojan War to an unhealthy degree, and my obsession with Achilles is even worse than that. I love the movie _Troy_, but the Achilles/Briseis angle really, really irritates me. I have my own theories about Achilles' character arch throughout The Iliad, and can quite happily argue my point for hours. In my opinion, the character that was most important to Achilles' growth as a character was not Patroclus, and was definitely not Briseis, but was rather Queen Penthesilea of the Amazons. Most people just gloss over the relationship and make frightening references to necrophilia, and I've never found a good Achilles/Penthesilea fanfic. So I decided to write one.

Six months and two versions of the story later because I'm a perfectionist and keep finding ways to improve what I wrote, I decided to write a third version that gleefully strays from the myth at points, and post it here. I'm hoping to someday make this story into a movie, so I guess I'll just keep writing it until I'm accepting the Oscar for Best Movie. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I own Achilles and Penthesilea. Yep. Stole them from the Greeks.

**Actual Disclaimer**: No, I don't own Achilles and Penthesilea! That's silly. Anything you recognize, I don't own. Unless you care to make the argument that the characters of mythology belong to the world, in which case, I like you and will support that viewpoint. I don't even own the character of Griffarius; he belongs to my friend Rob (to whom this story is dedicated). I just used him because Griff is all that is man. Period.

**Another Disclaimer**: The stuff in italics down there was taken verbatim except for one little addition from the beginning and ending of _Troy_. I really liked the Odysseus voiceover lines, so I plopped 'em in this story. Because I can. It's not plagiarism, it's fan fiction, please don't sue me!

_Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. And so we ask ourselves: will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we are gone, and wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved?_

_Men rise and fall like the winter wheat, but these names will never die. When they burn my body, let them say I walked with giants. Let them say I lived in the time of Hector, tamer of horses; of Penthesilea, queen of mares. Let them say I lived in the time of Achilles._

Ten years it had been since the Greeks came, but the Trojan War showed no signs of stopping. For ten long years, Trojan and Greek alike had suffered for the elopement of Helen, Queen of Sparta, with Paris, Prince of Troy. For ten years, Hector, Crown Prince of Troy, had marshaled his forces against Agamemnon, Spartan King of Kings, and his brother Menelaus, whom Helen had left.

But, unseen by mortals, the tide had begun to turn. Prince Achilles, chief of the Myrmidons, hero of the Greeks, had withdrawn from battle after the Spartan King stole his prize of war, refusing to fight for a man without honor. Prince Hector was dead, slain in battle by Achilles after Hector killed Achilles' beloved cousin Patroclus. After killing Hector, Achilles had once again retreated to the shade of his ship with the Myrmidons and his cousin Ajax, to drown his sorrow in tears and wine.

The Trojans had not a hope; the Greeks fared little better.

It was in this atmosphere that began the last, tragic weeks of the Trojan War. Destinies would be fulfilled, heroes would step forth, and the meeting of two warriors would pass into legend.


	2. Chapter One: A Proposition

**Author's Note**: Like I said in the last chapter, I've written this story three times now. The first version covered only the fight between Achilles and Penthesilea, and was more an exercise in writing a battle scene than anything. The second version was much more in-depth. In that version, I really started exploring how Penthesilea got dragged into the Trojan War. I knew what the myth said: she accidentally killed her sister while hunting, and went to Priam so he could cleanse her of the blood guilt. Well, I don't know about you, but I find it hard to believe that an experienced warrior would mistake a human for a stag. So I worked out a scenario that seemed much more plausible to me.

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize it, I don't own it. Meaning, I own nothing but Hippolyta, Caystrius, and Otrerion. Don't own Griffarius, either. All I own is my take on the myth. Fanfiction, not plagiarism, please don't sue.

**Plagiarism Disclaimer**: I borrowed a line from the Disney movie _Tarzan_. It happened by accident; I didn't even realize I'd done it until I read the chapter back to myself. So I'm putting this disclaimer in so Disney can't sue my ass- it's a nice ass, I'd like to protect it.

* * *

Themiskyra, Scythia

The Amazons had once been a proud and powerful nation. Though never a sedentary people, their capital of Themiskyra had been the jewel of their empire, the seat of the High Queen of the Five Tribes, a place of feminine dominance.

Over the generations, however, the Amazons' numbers had dwindled. Wars, capture, and disease had taken their toll on each of the five tribes. But the Amazons had survived, as proud and fierce as ever. Their capital still stood, and it was from Themiskyra that the High Queen ruled.

All men entering Themiskyra were, without exception, chained and gagged before entering the city, and it was this situation that was making him smirk as he was marched into the capital. He found the binding pointless; he and everyone else in the city knew that he could easily slip loose whenever needed… or desired.

Any sane man who knew there was an Amazon who wanted his head on a platter would stay hundreds of miles away from Scythia; yet he was going right into the heart of the capital. He'd always been suicidally stupid… Or maybe he knew that no matter how much she wanted to, she'd never succeed in killing him.

He glanced behind him, where his three children were following him. Both the boys were bound like their father; only the daughter was free. The triplets grinned at their father, anticipating a very amusing reunion between their parents.

He was brought into the palace, his gag removed though the chains were not, and was led into the throne room by his two guards, who both held spears.

"Princess Hippolyta," the throne room guards murmured, inclining their heads at his daughter. "Welcome home."

"What are you doing here?" one of the guards, a redhead, asked him exasperatedly. "You _know_ she doesn't want you here."

He smirked, amused. "What, Antiope, it's a crime to bring my children to visit their mother now?"

"Either that or you want her to go fight another battle with you," the other Amazon, a blond, said.

One corner of his mouth quirked in a grin. "_Or_, Hippolyta's been begging me for three weeks to come for a visit, and got Caystrius and Otrerion to help her. I can only take so much of that."

The other Amazon, Iphinome, sighed. "I'll tell her you're here."

Antiope led the man and his children into the throne room, where she removed the chains.

"I almost feel sorry for you," she said. "She's in a bad mood already."

"Dreaming again?" he asked, a grin forming on his face.

Antiope nodded. "She was up most of the night, apparently. I can only imagine what her reaction will be to know you're here."

"This'll be good," Hippolyta grinned, running past her brothers to the stairs leading up to the throne to get a good viewing spot.

Iphinome walked through the palace to a private courtyard, where two Amazons were in deep conversation.

One was sitting on the short flight of steps leading down to the courtyard. She was petite, her red-gold hair braided and bound with gold trinkets. She wore a white linen gown and sturdy sandals, a bronze armband on her right arm. Her hazel eyes were serious, and fixed on her sister. She reminded Iphinome of a ray of golden sunshine caught in a bronze mirror.

The elder woman was pacing agitatedly, her hands on her hips. She was tall and curvy, every muscle in her body defined, but she wasn't husky. Her hair was long and reddish-brown, and hastily tied back in a messy bun. Wisps of hair fell in her eyes, the same hazel as her sister's. Today she was dressed in a black leather kilt that fell to mid-thigh, with a length of black cloth wound around her torso as a top. As opposed to her polished, sophisticated sister, this woman was in thoughtless disarray which was nonetheless becoming.

"He's come to me every night," she told her sister, her low, rich voice revealing her agitation as strongly as her pacing did. "It's like… like he's searching for something… like he's as restless as I am… Or maybe I'm just restless because he is…"

The younger sister rested her chin in her palm, regarding her sister thoughtfully. "What really has you worked up?"

The elder sister stopped her pacing, staring off into space. "I saw his eyes last night. They're blue, bluer than any sea or any sky. They were… intense, and focused… I've never seen such eyes," she admitted softly.

The younger sister's eyebrows flew up. "That's it? That's what has you so worked up, you saw his eyes?"

The elder sister shook her head. "You don't understand, Hippolyte… There's something the matter with him. Something's upsetting him. Something that will affect me as well as him…"

The elder sister cut off when she caught sight of Iphinome, who bowed upon remembering her mission.

"Iphinome has news for us, I think," she said, composing herself.

Iphinome nodded, drawing a deep breath and sending a prayer to the Huntress that there wouldn't be too large a flare of the woman's famous temper when she delivered the news that would undoubtedly make the woman's bad mood even fouler.

"Griffarius is here. He's brought the children."

The effect of those two little sentences was immediate and alarming, as Iphinome had feared would happen. The woman's eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. She shoved on her sandals, lacing them quickly, then stormed off.

Iphinome exchanged glances with Hippolyte, and they sighed in unison.

"At least she didn't grab a weapon?" the redhead ventured.

Iphinome sighed. "He's in the throne room."

Hippolyte froze, her eyes widening. In the throne room were displayed the shields and spears of all the former Amazonian High Queens. Any one of them was still a formidable weapon.

"For the love of all the gods, why did you put him THERE?! Are you _trying_ to get him killed?!" she cried before taking off after her sister.

The brown-haired woman snatched Antiope's spear as she passed, and stormed into the throne room, glaring when she saw Griffarius lounging in the High Queen's throne. Without a word, she hurled the spear at him. He caught it deftly, lightly twirling it around before tossing it aside, and shook his head.

"That was a more pathetic attempt than usual."

"I was aiming for your leg," she glared, folding her arms. "Must've slipped."

"Of course," he nodded, winking at the giggling children.

"What the hell do you want?"

"What, Penny, no 'hi Griff, how lovely to see you again'?" Griffarius asked, grinning when he saw how pissed she was, an anger made only worse by the fact that he had called her 'Penny'. The grin widened as the redhead entered. "Hey, Hippolyte."

Hippolyte shook her head. "Incredible. Thirty seconds, and you already have her madder than Hades."

"What can I say?" Griff asked. "She's cute when she's mad."

"Cut the bullshit," the elder sister snapped. "And get the hell outta my chair."

"Throne, Penthesilea," Griffarius corrected her. "It's a throne. And it's comfy."

Penthesilea, High Queen of the Amazons, planted her feet in a defiant stance, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"Why are you here, Griffarius?" she asked aggressively.

He shrugged. "Brought the kids to say hi."

"Bullshit," she said immediately.

"Hippolyta wanted to see you," Griffarius said, motioning to their daughter. "And if one wants to go, it's only fair to bring all of 'em."

"Children, why don't you come for a ride with me?" Hippolyte asked, motioning to the children.

"Aw, can't we watch?" Caystrius asked, pushing his blond hair out of his blue eyes and watching his parents hopefully.

"Children, go with your aunt," Penthesilea said, her eyes never leaving Griffarius'.

Grumbling, the children left the throne room with Hippolyte. As soon as they were gone, Penthesilea attacked again.

"You only come here when you want something," she said, crossing her arms. "And you only bring one of the children when you're trying to sway me. If you brought all three, you want it damn bad. So have out with it so I can say no and kick you out."

"What if I only came here to talk?" Griffarius said.

Penthesilea scoffed. "Please, Griff, I know you better than that. You never go anywhere to 'just talk'."

He grinned. "You called me Griff. I knew I was growin' on ya."

She glared. "The only reason I'm not killing you right now is because Hippolyta asked me not to."

"Remind me to thank her."

"You're not talking."

Griffarius stood and walked down the short flight of stairs toward her. Penthesilea's eyes narrowed as she watched him. His waist-length black hair was tied back as always, his broad chest and powerful arms bare. His legs were enclosed by his usual leather leggings. He was a powerful man, both physically and militarily, the chieftain of a nomadic pack of warriors famous for their prowess in battle.

And how she hated him.

"You know there's a war in Troy," he said.

Penthesilea's arms dropped to her sides, and she sighed heavily, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Noooo. Really? I didn't know that," she said, disdain and sarcasm coating her words.

Griff smirked, knowing his next words would cut through Penthesilea's attitude and bring him to the real reason he'd come.

"Penthe… Hector is dead."

As he'd predicted, Penthe stopped moving and simply stared at him, her features painted with disbelief.

"What?"

Griff nodded, somber now. "Killed two days ago in man-on-man combat."

Penthe nodded silently, processing the news of the death of the Crown Prince of Troy.

"Who leads the army now? Paris?" she asked, scoffing.

Griffarius snorted derisively. "Shit, no. The worthless coward's been hiding in the palace since that pitiful excuse of a battle he and Menelaus had years ago."

Penthe and Griff both snickered at the cowardice of the Prince, one of the very few things they actually agreed upon.

"So I assume you're going to Troy?" she asked.

Griff nodded. "You're welcome to come too. My men could protect you till we got there."

Penthesilea scowled, but otherwise didn't respond to the jibe.

"This isn't our war," she stated. "The Greeks have done nothing to us."

"Other than slaughter Amazons for generations," Griff pointed out.

"Another reason not to go," Penthe said. "We don't have the resources to fight them. I won't take my women into a battle where we'll be massacred just because you're bored and feel like being suicidal again."

Griff smirked, pulling out his trump card. "It _wouldn't_ be your war… if it weren't for that little deathbed promise you made your mother…"

This time, Penthesilea did respond to the bait.

"My mother was delirious with fever," she said through gritted teeth. "She didn't know what she was saying."

"Yeah, you'd like to think that," Griffarius said. "But you know as well as I do that Otrere was perfectly sane. And that's what drives you crazy, because you want to know why, of all the warriors in the world, your mother told you to marry Achilles."

"I already know that. Hippolyte told me," Penthe snapped as she mentioned her sister, the High Priestess of Artemis and chief healer of the Amazons. "He's the only warrior Mother knew of whose element is Water. So he's supposed to be able to balance my Fire. Ha."

"That's one reason," Griff said. "But regardless of the reasons, you promised. He's at Troy right now."

"Fine," Penthesilea said. "Let him rot there. We aren't fighting."

"What kind of war demi-goddess are you, if you stay out of a battle just because you're not directly involved?" Griff asked, only half joking.

"A sane one," Penthe shot back.

"That'll disappoint your father," Griffarius said. "And after he went and asked Hephaestus to make you all new armor to wear into battle…"

As he'd expected, she paused at the mention of armor.

Ares, God of War, had fathered many children by many women. He was even the father of the Amazon tribe. But of all his children, divine or mortal, his daughter Penthesilea was his favorite and most beloved. His battle lust was in her very blood, and it was stirring now. She did so love combat…

No. She was High Queen, and as such she had the welfare of her people to consider. The Amazons didn't have the numbers to defeat the Greeks, even if they honored their alliance with the Trojans. Their nation was in relative peace. There was only one answer she could give.

"He'll have to save it," she said. "The Amazons will not fight."

So saying, she turned on her heel and left the throne room. When she was gone, Griffarius groaned in irritation and walked out to the stables, where Hippolyte and the children were getting ready for their ride.

"I take it that it didn't go well," Hippolyte guessed.

Being a priestess, Hippolyte had been able to scry for Griffarius, and had known of his intentions to come to Themiskyra to ask Penthesilea to join in the struggle in Troy.

Being a smart woman, she had not informed her sister that Griffarius would be coming to pay her a visit.

"Why does she have to do that? Is she difficult to just be difficult?" Griffarius asked.

"Possible," Hippolyte nodded. "Probable, even. Why'd you push her so hard, Griff?"

He sighed. "She _has_ to be in this war. The Fates said if you don't make your presence known at Troy… once its walls fall, the Amazons will be next."

"Ah," Hippolyte said slowly. "Well, that changes things."

"You have to persuade her, Squirt," Griff said.

Hippolyte scowled. "I'm not a Squirt! And why should I do it?"

He gave her a Look. "You're 4'11". You're a squirt. And you have to do this, because you're the only one who has a hope in hell of being listened to."

Hippolyte's scowl grew, but she dropped the height argument. "And how'm I supposed to do that? You know her as well as I do, Griff. Nobody can talk Penthe into or out of anything."

"You do owe me one…" he started, bringing his hand up to cover the scar on his arm.

"Oh, for the love of the gods, not this again," she muttered.

Ten years ago, when Penthesilea was 17, Griffarius had come to Themiskyra to have an audience with Penthe's mother, High Queen Otrere. Penthesilea had called him out to a duel for reasons which none but she knew, which he accepted. He had won the duel under the terms of combat, but Penthe had refused to surrender. She struck at him, he deflected it, and while she was disengaging, he gave her the Bouncer (anal rape), to show her that she wasn't dominant, and to show her how powerless she truly was.

Penthe had understandably been furious- though it couldn't compare to the outburst she'd had when she discovered she'd become pregnant by that incident- and had chased him through the forest, screaming curses and hurling spears at him. One of those spears would have struck and killed the 15-year-old Hippolyte had Griffarius not stuck his arm out and let the spear go through his bicep.

Now, anytime Griff wanted Hippolyte to do anything, he had only to draw her attention to the scar, and she would cave.

Sighing, Hippolyte left the stables to find her sister. She found Penthesilea leaning against a pillar on the balcony, overlooking the wild forest in which Themiskyra was nestled.

"We're not going, Hippolyte," she said without even turning. "I don't care what Griff told you to tell me. This war doesn't concern us."

"Are you saying no because you don't want to go to war? Or because Griff was the one who asked you?" Hippolyte asked.

"Both," Penthe scowled.

Hippolyte sighed. "Penthe, listen to me. We have to go. Griff said the Fates said if we didn't go, we'd be next."

"So let Agamemnon come here!" Penthe said. "He and his idiotic men don't know our land, and they certainly don't know our forest. We do. Here, we can defeat even their mighty Achilles, and make them all our slaves for the rest of their miserable lives. But we can't defeat them if we enter a foreign war."

Penthe walked away without another word or a backwards glance, blissfully unaware of what the Fates had in store for her and her beloved sister.


	3. Chapter Two: A Journey

**Author's Note**: One of the things I really loved about this chapter was the opportunity to introduce Achilles- not as the fierce indomitable demigod warrior preserved in myth, but as a depressed, apathetic, fatalistic man. I found it endlessly amusing that Achilles and Pentha end up sounding exactly alike- two of the best warriors in the world, each wanting to die. I guess I'm just sick and twisted like that.

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize it from a mythology book, I don't own it. If you recognize it from other places in the story, congratulations, you're paying attention. If you recognize it from a story I didn't write, that is entirely accidental and no plagiarism is intended.

**Disclaimer a deux**: Achilles is not crazy. The Greek divinity has a tendency to appear to people- especially beloved semi-divine children- in dreams and visions. For the purposes of my story, work with me and accept that the gods come down from Olympus to meddle in human affairs. A lot.

* * *

Troy

Griffarius glanced at Penthesilea for the hundredth time in an hour, ascertaining how she was doing. They'd been traveling for three days, and he'd learned on the first hour of the first day not to directly ask her if she was okay. Matter of fact, he'd learned not to talk to her at all. She hadn't spoken a single word for days. She was a stone statue, sitting rigidly on her charger Thanatos, locked in her grief.

Five days ago, a party of travelers had been spotted coming towards the borders of the forest. Hippolyte had taken a handful of warriors to meet the party, who had identified themselves as diplomats. When the Amazons approached, the "diplomats"- actually a raiding party sent by Agamemnon- had attacked. Only one woman had returned to tell the tale before dying of her injuries.

Since the moment she'd been informed of her sister's death, it had been as though Penthesilea was dead, as well. From that moment on, she had been resolved on death, so she could join Hippolyte in Elysium. She was too proud to fall on her sword, and so there had been only one option for her- the plains of Troy.

She had called for volunteers instead of ordering an army, because she knew she would not survive the battle. Twelve women had stepped forward, pledging themselves to follow their queen to victory or to death. Now, they and Griffarius' tribe were en route to Ilium, the capital and great citadel of Troy.

Normally, Griffarius would tease Penthesilea for going back on her word and actually giving in to him on something. But today he was silent. He knew all too well how Hippolyte's death had left Pentha heartbroken and shattered, and he would not tease her about that. Far be it from him to mock the bond between sisters such as these. He might on occasion manipulate it, but he would never mock it.

* * *

Greek Camp, Troy

He tossed and turned restlessly, in the grips of an uneasy night's sleep. He had sought the beautiful warrioress of his dreams to no avail; all he could sense was that she was in utter anguish, and that none could ease her pain.

The sound of the ocean waves beating against the shore, which he usually found to be so soothing (at times, it was the only sound that could calm him when he was in one of his moods), served only to further agitate him. Suddenly, a soft, familiar echoing voice shattered his attempt at slumber.

_Achilles._

He stirred, groaning. "Mother?"

He sat up as a figure materialized at the foot of his bed. Her eyes, exactly like his, were as blue as her robes, her immortal face unlined, her blond hair pulled high off her face.

_Achilles,_ she said. _A new enemy has come to Troy, new allies for Priam. I know you grieve for Patroclus, but you must put aside your mourning. You must fight._

Achilles scowled, folding his arms. "I won't fight for Agamemnon, Mother, not even for you."

_I don't ask you to fight for Agamemnon,_ Thetis replied. _I ask you to fight the Trojans and their allies._

"Who are they?" he asked, curious despite himself.

_The first is Griffarius,_ Thetis said.

Achilles shot up, drawing a sharp breath and soiling himself in alarm. Griffarius was famed and feared throughout the world, both for his military genius and for his allegiance to no king. Even he, the greatest warrior in the world, had no wish to join Griffarius in battle.

Thetis drew her brows together, sensing her son's alarm and his desire to quit the war and go home.

_You will not leave Troy, Achilles,_ she commanded him. _It is not Griffarius you need worry about. It is not his involvement that will concern you. It is the other._

"And who is the other?" Achilles asked, not knowing how it could possibly get any worse.

A small, strange, secret smile crossed Thetis' face. _Her name is Penthesilea, and she is High Queen of the Five Tribes of the Amazons._

Achilles scoffed. "So the bitches of Scythia want a fight, do they?"

Thetis' lovely face darkened in anger, as did her tone. _Do not underestimate her simply because she is a woman. An Amazon seeking death is not to be trifled with. You must stand and fight her, for if you do not, she will slaughter the Greeks._

_An Amazon seeking death_…

Something about the phrase bothered him, set off vague alarms in his head that he should pay attention to, if only he could figure out what the alarm was for. For the moment, he brushed it off.

"If she's so powerful, how do you suggest I defeat her?" Achilles asked.

_Do you not remember the words of the Delphic Oracle?_ Thetis asked. _It was Penthesilea to whom the Oracle referred. They will be here in two days' time, to lead the Trojans into battle when the twelve days of funerary peace are over._

Achilles shot straight up, sweating and panting for breath as he awoke from the dream… vision… whatever it had been. He staggered to his feet and lurched outside to the beach before diving neatly into the ocean waves. He spent an untold amount of time in the water, his natural element, letting the constant rolling motion of the ocean soothe and calm him, before looking up at the heavens, his expression once again calm bordering on indifference.

"Let them come," he whispered. "And with them my death."


	4. Chapter Three: The Arrival

**Author's Note**: I wish I could take credit for the Achilles/Penthe moment that comes late in this chapter, but alas, credit belongs to my de facto older brother Rob (same Rob who owns the character of Griffarius). He's a mythology buff too (more so even than I), and when I told him I was rewriting this story again, we came up with this idea of how Achilles and Penthe met. I love it, because you get to see another side of the two of them, and one of the few moments in the story that's not war-centric.

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize it, it's not mine. If the story doesn't follow the myth, that's my fault, and I probably have a reason for it (but I welcome the comments/raves/flames anyway).

* * *

Ilium, Troy

It was into a city of mourning that Penthesilea and Griffarius led their warriors. All business had been suspended so all the citizens could partake of the funeral games being held in honor of Prince Hector. Even so, the buildings were lovely, the temples and courtyards intriguing.

All the beauties of the city were lost on Penthesilea, who had still not given a sign that she noticed the outer world still existed.

"I'll go to Priam first, tell him I've brought you," Griffarius said. "After he's given us all rooms, you can go present yourself."

It was a mark of Penthesilea's mental state that she didn't argue with him; she merely nodded and dismounted, leading her charger towards the palace.

When Griffarius disappeared into the palace, the Amazons settled down in a huddle to polish their spears and relax their muscles. Penthesilea wandered away from them, staring blankly out over the plains where so many battles in this wretched war had been fought. She felt something pulling at her, calling to her. There was something waiting for her here, and if only she could figure out what it was, she would go running towards it…

The women waited for what seemed like an eternity until Griffarius returned with two of the palace guards. The walk to Penthesilea's appointed chamber passed in a blur, and as soon as she was alone she fell face-first onto the sleeping couch, already deep in a dreamless slumber.

When she awoke, the warm light of sunset was slanting through her windows. She stood and washed the grime of travel off her body, then changed out of her leather riding clothes. She put on a crimson floor-length under tunic, with a length of purple cloth draped on top, the ends crossed over her chest and secured at the nape of her neck. Arm bands and bracelets, a necklace and rings, all of bronze with precious stones, went on next. She also wore a necklace that had been her mother's, seven stones of tourmaline and carnelian arranged on a length of leather. She pulled her long hair back, binding it quickly into a bun and holding it off her face with a double headband made of bronze, then slipped on her five-pronged crown.

She walked out the door and down the hall, heading towards King Priam's dining chamber. As she walked, her warriors walked out of their rooms and joined her, until the thirteen of them entered the great hall and were announced by the herald. All eyes turned to them as they walked toward the king, feasting their eyes on the famous Amazons.

Priam stood, smiling. "Queen Penthesilea. I knew your mother well. We welcome and greet you to Ilium."

"I thank you for your welcome, and offer you my warriors, King Priam," Penthesilea responded, putting on a performance so flawless that only Griffarius could see her inner anguish, "in honor of the alliance that long stood between Troy and Scythia."

"And gladly, I accept them," Priam said. "Come, my dear. Sit beside me and let us get to know one another."

Priam had ordered a feast in honor of Griffarius' and Penthesilea's arrival. As they ate, Penthesilea on Priam's right side, Griffarius seated next to Crown Princess Andromache, the warriors talked of the impending battle.

"May Cerberus eat me if I do not defeat the Greek dogs," Penthe exclaimed after a goblet or three of wine. "I will defeat all who may challenge us, even Achilles himself."

"You shouldn't boast so, Penthesilea," came the voice of Andromache, Hector's widow. "If my husband, the best warrior in Troy, couldn't defeat Achilles, then what living man can?"

"I am no man," Penthesilea replied staunchly. "Nor am I mere mortal. I am the child of fiery Ares, God of War. My immortal father willing, I will conquer this conqueror and restore peace to Ilium."

Andromache said no more about the matter, and Griffarius hid an amused smile in his wine goblet, but Priam was overjoyed at Penthesilea's boasting. He made her many gifts, with promises of more to come. When the feast was through, everyone retired to their chambers to await battle.

* * *

Outer Wall of Ilium, Troy

No one but the barest number of guards was awake to see a cloak-shrouded figure slip out of a small side door of the great citadel wall of the city.

Penthesilea stole through the shadows, expertly avoiding being seen. When she was clear of the city, she made her way down to a section of beach that did not belong to the Greek army. There, she shed her cloak and sandals, and walked ankle-deep into the ocean waves. Then, she tilted her head back to look at the stars, and she waited.

She had awoken abruptly, and been pulled by an overwhelming urge to sneak down to the Trojan beach. There, she knew, she would find something she had long sought. With no further information, she had thrown on a cloak and her sandals, and had snuck out of the city, which had been strangely easy considering the city was under siege. She figured that some god or goddess must be protecting her this night, and she sent a silent word of thanks for their aid.

"I knew you would be here."

She whipped around, and her breath stopped when she saw the warrior from her dreams standing in the moonlight. For a moment, she couldn't register that he was here, before her, in a physical form.

The next moment, she couldn't think at all, because she was in his arms, and they were kissing passionately, as if there would be no tomorrow.

"I've come here every night," he whispered in her ear, holding her against him. "I knew you were coming."

For an endless moment, they just stared at each other, feasting on the vision of the other's face. In their dreams, they had never been able to fully see the other's face, and now they fully meant to enjoy the sight before them.

"I have waited so long for this night, to finally see you," he whispered, pulling her close again.

"As have I," she murmured. "But tonight, for this last night… let us remain as we have always been. There is time enough tomorrow, when we're forced to be enemies, to learn the other's name. Tonight, let us merely be."

He readily nodded his assent before crashing his lips on hers again. And then the time for words was over.

He gathered her into his arms as he lowered them onto the sand, pausing only to spread their cloaks beneath them, and to remove their few garments, before they joined in the oldest dance of all, losing themselves for one final night in the rites of love before they again became the servants of war.

"Tell me once," she whispered, arching against him. "Just once."

The shadow warrior groaned, lavishing kisses wherever he could reach. "My beautiful warrioress… I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," she whispered back, clinging to him.

"When this wretched business is over," he said, "I will find you, and take you away from all of this. Then no war will ever be able to part us."

"Yes," she whispered, surrendering to him completely. "Yes."


	5. Chapter Four: A Secret Bargain

**Author's Note**: This is where I really, _really_ stray from the myth, and have a really, _really_ good time doing so. Again, most of the credit for this idea goes to Rob, because his mind is more twisted than my own. I don't remember who had what idea originally; my plot and Rob's ideas kinda melded and formed a mutant story baby _mutant story baby_ is a copywrited phrase, TM'd to Roxie and Rob. No, not really.

**Secondary Note to Achilles/Briseis shippers**: From what I was taught, the only reason Achilles threw a hissy fit when Briseis was taken from him was because being given a prize of war was a status symbol. So when Agamemnon took her, he insulted Achilles' position and ranked him with the minor client kings. Had nothing to do with love. So when the Briseis situation gets alluded to in this chapter, please know that in my version of this story, Achilles isn't mad because Agamemnon stole his "lady love"; he's mad because Agamemnon insulted his position.

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I realize the myth didn't happen like this. It's called literary license (and me just wanting to watch Griff be manipulative). And again- don't own, don't sue.

* * *

Greek Camp, Troy

Griffarius could barely keep the grin off of his face as he walked into the Greek's camp of war under a white flag of truce. Yes, the frightened behavior of the soldiers as they realized who he was amused him, but more entertaining was the anticipation of the meeting he was going to. If Penny ever found out what he was up to, that the change in her future was due to him, she would kill him…

He really, really hoped she found out. The explosion of her embarrassed, helpless rage would be beautiful in its hilarity. It was juvenile of him, he knew, to goad her so often. She was a queen, and he was a warlord; such antics and bickering should be beneath them. But he just couldn't resist watching her temper explode. Nothing made him happier than making her mad at him.

"Not that way," he said to the Trojan soldier who was carrying the white flag, as the soldier headed towards Agamemnon's tent. "We're not going to see the pompous windbag. I have other business today."

The soldier stared at Griffarius, confused. "Who then, my lord?"

"Stay here," he replied.

Leaving the dumbstruck Trojan, Griffarius walked past Agamemnon's headquarters, heading instead for a round black tent made of pliable leather. From beneath the safety of his cloak's hood, he grinned in anticipation as he walked up to a battle-hardened man sitting by the tent's door.

"Eudoras, tell your master I've come to treat with him," Griff said.

"What name shall I give him, Trojan?" Eudoras asked.

"I am no Trojan, but the name is not important," Griffarius replied. "Tell him only that it concerns the Amazons, and it concerns his shadow warrior."

Eudoras nodded and entered the tent. A moment later, he held the flap open for Griffarius.

"Leave us," Achilles commanded his captain. "Tell the men to start their training."

The two men stood in silence as Eudoras bowed and went. For a long moment, nothing was said; the warriors merely sized each other up.

"Who are you?" Achilles finally asked. "What do you want?"

Griffarius said nothing; he merely pulled down the hood of his cloak so his face could be seen. Achilles paled in alarm, taking a step backwards and instantly training his sword on Griffarius.

"Griffarius," he breathed.

"Peace, Achilles," Griffarius said calmly. "Put down your sword, I haven't come to kill you today."

"Who is she?" Achilles demanded, his eyes fierce as he dove right in to the meeting. "I have seen her in my dreams, and I know she's here. Who is she?"

"You don't need to worry about her," Griffarius said, somehow managing not to smirk. "If she wants you, she will have you, and if she does not there's nothing you can do to persuade her otherwise. Let her come to you, she's not why I'm here."

"And why are you here?" Achilles asked, not lowering his sword. "You told Eudoras that this concerned the Amazons, and… and her."

Griffarius folded his arms over his bare chest. "You wish to get out of this war. When Agamemnon stole your slave girl, he insulted your position among the soldiers. You declared that this was a tyrant without honor, and you would not fight beside him."

"Yes," Achilles said warily.

"I can help you," Griffarius said simply.

Achilles stared for a moment, then lowered his sword. "How?"

"What is the surest way out of a battle?" Griff asked. "Death."

The two men sat down across the table from each other as Griffarius laid out his plan. It was simple, really; Achilles would join Queen Penthesilea in battle when the funerary peace was over. Achilles would fake his death, with the queen's help, and would be carried off the battlefield by one of Griffarius' men, disguised to look like a Myrmidon. Later that night, under cover of darkness, he and the Myrmidons would sail away, to meet Griffarius on one of the many islands in the Aegean Sea.

"And why should the Amazon Queen help me?" Achilles asked. "I have heard she seeks my death as well as hers."

Griffarius indulged in a secretive smile. "Leave Penthesilea to me."

"Why are you helping me?" Achilles asked.

"It's not so much for you as it is for the Amazons," Griff said. "I've protected them for too long to let Agamemnon defeat them now. And he will attack them when he has finished with Troy. This way, I get you and them out of his way. Are we agreed?"

Achilles nodded, and the men clasped arms in comradeship. As he left the Greek camp, Griffarius silently laughed to himself; this was almost too easy.

* * *

Ilium, Troy

"She will not see you," Antiope said, blocking Griffarius' entrance to Penthesilea's rooms. "She won't see anyone."

"It's not my problem if she was up late sneaking out of the city," Griffarius said, a grin quirking his lips. "I need to speak with her about the battle tomorrow."

Antiope sighed. "I'll tell her you're here."

Grumbling to herself about pushy, arrogant bastards who were pitiful excuses for men, Antiope walked into Penthesilea's rooms. She found the queen laying on her bed, idly staring out the window towards the beach, a secret smile on her face.

Antiope cleared her throat. "My queen?"

Penthesilea turned her head. "Who's here?"

"Griffarius," Antiope said apologetically. "He wants to talk about the battle."

Penthesilea sighed. "He won't go away until I see him. Fine. Let him in, I'll be there in a moment."

Penthe stood, yawning and stretching before stripping out of her sleeping tunic and dressing in a blue sleeveless floor-length dress, with a simple golden girdle to belt it. She didn't bother strapping on sandals, or putting on any jewelry; it was only Griffarius, after all. She walked into the audience room, glaring darkly at him before sitting on her throne.

"Make it fast, Griff."

He smiled. "You're in a good mood."

"Yes, and you're spoiling it," she returned. "What do you want?"

Griffarius adopted a casual stance. "Your shadow warrior is here."

Penthesilea cleared her throat, and Griffarius could've sworn he saw her blushing. "Yes, I've become aware of that."

He let himself smirk then. "Is that why you're in such a good mood today? Did you sneak out and meet him and-"

"Stop right there," she warned him.

He snickered, but instead of teasing her as he would have preferred to do, moved on. "Do you want to go with him?"

She tensed, watching him closely. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked," he said. "Do you want to leave the war and start a new life with him?"

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

He sighed patiently. "Because if you do, we can set it up. He will challenge you in battle tomorrow. Wound him, but do not, for the love of the gods and Hippolyte and all you hold sacred, do _not_ kill him."

Penthesilea glared. "I think I can control myself."

"I know you, I know you go overboard when the battle lust takes you," Griff said. "Don't kill him."

She rolled her eyes. "So I wound him."

"Yes," Griff said. "And let him wound you too- just enough so that you have to leave the battlefield," he assured her as she made a noise of protest. "After that, I'll get you and the Amazons out, you can go back to Themiskyra and gather all your warriors together, and all of you can sail away before Agamemnon marches on your lands."

"Why are you so eager to help?" Penthesilea asked suspiciously.

Griffarius shrugged. "I've had enough of watching you mope around."

Penthesilea rolled her eyes. "Griffarius…"

He sighed. "Fine. You will never be able to rule your people in peace unless you're out of the way of Agamemnon."

She groaned. "Is this still about that bag of wine? I told Hippolyte, and I'm telling you, let him come-"

"Penthesilea, you don't have the resources to fight him, and you know it," Griffarius interrupted her. "Either you face him and your entire tribe dies, or you leave Scythia and live in peace. I know you're a war demi-goddess, but don't think about the battle, think about the logistics. It makes more sense to get out of Agamemnon's way, and that is what you are going to do. Even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and take you myself."

Penthesilea huffed, but she couldn't argue with Griffarius' logic. "Fine," she snapped, giving up.

She whirled around and stormed back into her inner room, slamming the door behind her. His job done, Griffarius walked out of her chambers, smirking to himself. Too easy, indeed.


	6. Chapter Five: The Battle

**Author's Note**: Much though I love writing war stories, I find battle sequences to be really hard to write. I'm always afraid that I'm being too wordy, and that I'm not conveying the action well enough. So for that reason, I'm not too fond of this chapter. Hope you like it better than I do.

**Disclaimer**: If you recognize it, it's not mine. Don't own, don't sue. Also, I realize that in the myths, nobody believed Cassandra's prophecies, and they thought she was mad. But if you're an Amazon who wants to die, and Cassandra says that you will, in fact, be offed, wouldn't you believe her?

**Deity Disclaimer**: I am fully aware that Ares and Aphrodite had a torrid affair. However, in my mind that wouldn't stop Ares from calling a spade a spade. Thus his comment about her.

* * *

Ilium, Troy

_Penthesilea…_

She shot straight up from a sleep peppered with feverish dreams of her shadow warrior, and gaped to see her father standing at the edge of her bed.

Ares' black hair flopped almost boyishly in his eyes, which glowed red. He wore his golden breastplate and grieves, a scarlet cloak wrapped around his shoulders. In one hand he gripped a spear; under the other arm he carried his helmet. His two hellhounds wound around his legs.

"Father?" she panted, breathless.

_Rouse yourself, daughter,_ Ares said in his deep, rumbling baritone. _You are not the daughter of the goddess of love, that whore of Olympus who lies upon her pleasure couch all day and thinks of nothing but her own beauty. It is not fitting for the daughter of the war god to lounge in bed on the day of battle! Arise, put on your armor, and ride to glory and death!_

Stirred by her father's words, Penthe ripped off her sheets and ran for her armor, staring when she found it had been replaced by a new set of tailor-made armor, the very set Griffarius had told her about. A golden breastplate, arm and leg grieves, new sandals, golden helmet with a black horsetail crest, a shield with Amazonian myths and sacred symbols engraved on it… each made expressly for her, a present from a doting father to his beloved daughter.

Quickly, she dressed in a white linen chiton that hung to just above mid-thigh, wrapping a leopard skin over it to identify her rank as Queen and Commander. She mixed dyes and water to brush on her war-paint, all of it comprised of symbols for valor, daring, etc. She fingered the tattoos on her forearms- the triskelon, which stood for strength- and on her hips- the symbol for stability and endurance- before strapping on her armor and gathering her weapons.

As she walked towards the stables, she was stopped by Cassandra, the youngest daughter of King Priam. Her long brown hair was tangled and hanging loose, her purple eyes wide and wild.

"Please, Penthesilea, you can't go," she gasped, gripping the queen's arm. "I've seen such terrible things…"

"Battle is dangerous," Penthesilea said. "But that is why I'm here."

"I've seen the joy you bring to my father's heart," Cassandra changed tactics. "You lift everyone's spirits by your mere presence. Would you rob us of that joy, so soon after we have found it?"

"There is time for joy when the battle is won," Penthesilea replied.

"I have seen your death!" Cassandra burst out.

Penthesilea froze, turning to look at the prophetess, wild hope and crushing despair warring in her heart. She had come here to die, to join Hippolyte… But was she to be robbed of her chance at life with her warrior?

Cassandra talked faster, knowing she now had Penthesilea's attention. "Such a death it was… pain, and grief, and love found and lost… Please, Penthesilea, it is not your destiny to die like that."

Penthesilea laid a hand on Cassandra's shoulder, resigned to the fate she had assigned herself. "No woman or man can escape their fate. If my lot is to fall here, I embrace my death gladly."

These words spoken, Penthesilea turned and waked to the stables, gladness and sorrow sharing company in her heart. She didn't want to let her mysterious warrior go, but if she had to, at least she would be with Hippolyte again.

* * *

Alloyan Plain, Troy

She sat upon her charger, her displeasure clear to all who saw her. Upon watching her, Griffarius merely laughed. She was acting like a spoiled child, and he found it nothing but amusing.

"Oh come on, Penny," he said. "Your idea not only would've gotten us killed, it would've meant you couldn't wreak mass carnage."

"Fuck you," she growled, furious in the knowledge that, as always, he was right.

Her suggestion had been to funnel the Greeks into the nearby Theodronica Pass, where her warriors could use their spears to slaughter the armies. Griffarius had quickly pointed out the flaws in that plan- there wouldn't be much poking room in the pass; plus, thousands of Greeks against fourteen warriors didn't spell out a Trojan success.

Griffarius had proposed a plan of his own: to join the Greeks in open battle, and send Agamemnon the heads of the White Cloaks, the elite Spartan warriors, so called because of the white cloaks they wore into battle, boasting that the enemy would never hit them. As Griffarius had taken over Prince Hector's position as commander-in-chief, as per King Priam's order, Penthesilea had had no choice but to give in to him.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

She managed to forget all of that, however, as the dust rose on the horizon, announcing the arrival of the Greek army. Feeling the familiar adrenaline and bloodlust rising in her blood, mercifully wiping out all of her disturbing emotions, Penthesilea looked up towards the heavens, clasping the amulet sacred to Artemis, beloved protectoress of the Amazons.

_Be with me, Huntress,_ she silently prayed.

Letting go of the amulet to finger her armor, she also threw a prayer to her father.

_I leave my fate to you, Father. Let me earn glory in this battle, whether it is to be my last or not. Regardless if this is my day to die, let me join Achilles in battle, and may my spear pierce his arrogant hide._

Screaming her war cry, she spurred her charger on to fame and glory.

* * *

Alloyan Plain, Troy

The hours passed in a blur of flashing armor, the clash of metal on metal, the scents of blood and death. Penthesilea moved through the battlefield like a hurricane, her rage only mounting with every ally casualty.

Under the leadership of Griffarius and Penthesilea, the Trojan army had pushed the Greeks almost back to their ships. In desperation, King Odysseus of Ithaca sent a messenger to Achilles.

The boy found Achilles sitting in the shadow of his ship, within eyesight of the pyre on which Patroclus had burned. He was sober, for once, and dry-eyed, which was a very definite improvement. It seemed to the boy that the mighty warlord had been waiting for something, that he had been expecting the boy to come.

"My lord?" he asked tentatively.

"If you've come from Agamemnon, I won't hear you," Achilles growled.

"No, my lord," the boy said, shaking his head. "King Odysseus sent me."

Achilles chuckled darkly to himself; wise tactic. Odysseus was the only Greek king Achilles sometimes listened to.

_It's time_, he thought to himself, his warrior spirit stirring.

"What does he want?" Achilles asked the lad, continuing the charade he and Griffarius had agreed upon.

"He wants you to come fight," the boy replied. "The Trojans are led by Griffarius and Queen Penthesilea."

Nodding, Achilles stood and walked into his tent, issuing the boy an order to prepare his black stallion. As he dressed in his all-black armor, his mind drifted to the words of the Oracle of Delphi, to whom he had gone to garner advice when he'd first entered this gods-accursed war.

_You will meet many enemies in Troy. Most will be far beneath you. Two- the horse-tamer and the shadow of the wolf- are your superiors. Only one is your equal._

_"How do I conquer this so-called equal?" he had asked._

_It is not in your destiny to conquer her, the daughter of war. Defeat her, you will, but she will conquer you in the end._

* * *

Alloyan Plain, Troy

They began a strange sort of dance around and towards each other. As they slowly came into relatively closer contact, he had to smile to himself. She was obviously a happy war demi-goddess; she seemed almost gleeful, nearly skipping through the battlefield, like a little girl playing a game with her papa.

When he could between skirmishes, he'd throw glances her way, appraising her. Her limbs, though covered in blood and war paint, were beautifully formed and wonderfully familiar. He couldn't see her face under her helmet, but every line of her form seemed lovelier than any other he'd ever seen.

He had to admit, she intrigued him, struck his fancy as no one had done for a long time. Her courage and daring struck a chord in him, pulling him closer.

He shook his head. Enough thinking… now was the time to fight.

He cast his spear, surprised when she deflected it with her shield. Penthesilea then threw her spear, snarling as he shifted and it flew harmlessly over his shoulder.

"You think you can defeat me, son of Peleus?" she sneered. "In my veins runs the blood of the God of War. I am his child, and a better warrior than any man!"

A sense of foreboding filled him as he drew his sword. Either she was an incredible actress, and was committed to fooling the soldiers with their charade… or she didn't know that her shadow warrior and Prince Achilles were one and the same. He was willing to bet on the second circumstance, and he cursed Griffarius under his breath for not telling Penthesilea who he was.

"No matter whom the father, no woman can equal a man," he said, determined to go through with the charade. "Before this day is done, you will lie in the dust, and I will drink to your bones."

Penthesilea drew her sword, and the titans clashed.

Not since Hector had he had a fight like this, Achilles thought as their weapons clashed, and he realized how much he had missed it. And even then, in that sweetest of revenge killings, he hadn't felt so invested in the fight as he did now.

They whirled and clashed, parried and thrusted, dancing a deadly tango. Their movements were almost perfectly timed to each other, and for the longest time neither could gain an advantage. The Oracle had been right, Achilles thought; here, in this battle-crazed Amazon, he had found his equal and his match.

His thoughts ceased quickly as he felt a sharp pain in his leg. He looked down to see Penthesilea's sword embedded in his thigh. Groaning, he fell to his knees, looking up as she moved in for the kill. Suddenly grateful for the Oracle's advice on how to stop her, he spoke quickly.

"Penthesilea, wait! If you spare me, I'll tell you how to kill Griffarius."

She paused, exactly as the Oracle had said she would. Quickly, he grabbed his sword, to wound her, praying that she would then realize who he was.

Then…

"NO!!"

He heard the primal scream of anguish, but didn't realize it had come from his throat. He didn't register anything that was happening.

All he knew was that Griffarius' plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.


	7. Chapter Six: An Ending and A Beginning

**Author's Note**: I wasn't originally going to end the story this way. As I've said before, I've written this myth out three times now, and with both the former versions I stuck to the traditional ending. This time around, I had an idea that I wanted to try, but as I started posting the story I realized that my ending would not at all have worked. Part of the power of this story comes from its tragic ending, and I would have stripped the romance of all its poignancy if I had gone through with my original idea. So I changed it at the last minute. I hope you approve.

**Disclaimer (and inadvertant lecture on Author's Intent)**: I realize that my characters are really vastly different from the way they're usually portrayed in mythology. I did have a reason for that, though I don't think I got my message across very well; I really wanted to show these famous characters as human beings, not the glorified legends they became. So I made Penthesilea petulant and at times petty and very undignified, and "gifted" Achilles with his depression and apathy (some gift, huh?), and tried to strip away the glory that surrounds their names. I didn't let them use elevated, formal language, and didn't let them act all that nobly most of the time. I tried to create human beings out of the elevated heroes of this story, and hopefully I've done a decent job of that.

**Minor Point Disclaimer**: I realize that chess didn't exist back in the day. But I don't know much about the games that did exist, so I chose a game that people would be somewhat familiar with.

* * *

Ilium, Troy

The city was quiet, drunk with celebration. The symbol of their triumph sat in the town forum, a silent testament to the miracle that had occurred.

The funerary games honoring Queen Penthesilea and her twelve fallen comrades had been completed two days ago. Then a messenger had come to King Priam, telling him the Greeks had sailed home, leaving a wooden horse statue as an offering to Poseidon for a safe journey. Priam had ordered the horse brought into the city, and turned the mourning capital into a city of rejoicing.

As Achilles opened one of the six hatches of the horse, he shook his head at the naivety of the Trojans. They deserved what was about to happen to them, if only for their lack of common sense. But it wasn't his business what happened to the city; he was here for one purpose only.

The events of that horrible afternoon twelve days ago kept replaying in his mind, over and over again. He was drowning in the memory, lost in it.

When he'd pulled his sword, he'd only been going along with Griffarius' plan to wound her, so she would be forced off the battlefield. He would have snuck into the palace under cover of darkness that night, to reveal himself to her and convince her to return with him to Phthia as his bride.

But he had been correct when he guessed that Penthesilea hadn't recognized him, or the charade. Furious, she had lunged forward to incapacitate him-

And had impaled herself on his blade.

"NO!!" he'd screamed, his eyes wide and wild with horror.

Penthesilea had fallen to her knees, gasping for breath and holding her right side, where his sword had gone through. Quickly, Achilles removed her helmet, ripping off his own as he saw her for the first time in the sunlight.

Her waist-length roan brown hair fell around her face and shoulders. Her hazel eyes were glassy with the tears she refused to let fall. She was pale, and shaking, her full lips parted to allow for gasping breaths. Yet she was still the most beautiful woman, mortal or goddess, he had ever laid eyes on.

And she, with her beauty, conquered the conqueror.

"Penthesilea," he whispered.

"Achilles," she gasped in realization, a mewl of pain in the sound, revealing the agony she was in… the agony he had put her in.

He leaned down to kiss her, a silent promise that he would return for her, in this life or the next. She clung to him, her strength failing her as her lifeblood flowed out of her body. A soft sigh left her lips as her eyes unfocused and closed. He held her close to him, cradling her and whispering words of love in her ear, as he'd done only days before under the light of a full moon on the Trojan beach. Too soon, she was gone.

Another soldier, Thersites, jeered. "What's this? Mighty Achilles, weeping like a young girl, over not only an enemy, but a woman at that?"

Achilles hadn't even realized he was crying, but when Thersites spoke, he realized there were tears of rage and pain in his eyes. Slowly, he raised his head, his eyes now snapping with rage. His fist clenched, and before anyone knew what was happening-

The force of the blow was so severe that Thersites' neck snapped. He was dead before he hit the ground.

The battle had ended then, the Trojans and Griffarius' warriors retreating to honorably bury the Amazons, and the Greeks collecting their dead. Achilles had numbly stumbled to his tent, his mind refusing to wrap around the concept that his rightful bride had been killed by his own hand.

Griffarius had come under cover of darkness. Only days ago, Achilles would have killed him without a second thought, his fury with himself adding to the anger at Griffarius' plan failing. But his all-consuming rage had died now, and all he could do was sit silently, staring into space as Griffarius sank into a low-backed chair beside him.

"I'm sorry," Griffarius said, the words awkward on his tongue. "I should have told her who you were. I should have known that the battlelust would overpower her reason."

"Why didn't you?" Achilles asked numbly, pouring himself more wine.

"Because I wanted to watch the fight," Griffarius admitted. "And because I thought she'd be smart enough to realize who you were; I told her you would challenge her."

"But you didn't bother to tell her who I really was," Achilles said, his emotionless voice somehow more powerful than if he had been screaming. "In all of your manipulations and all of your plans, you never for a moment stopped to consider that she might have made plans of her own."

"I knew she wanted to die," Griffarius said. "But I'd thought that after she found you she would come to her senses."

"She's not- she wasn't a puppet on your strings, Griffarius," Achilles said, unable to put any emotion in the words. "But you spent her entire life manipulating her and moving her where you wanted, like she was a pawn on a chessboard."

"She wasn't my pawn," Griffarius said. "She was my knight. Best piece on the board. And if I manipulated her, it was because I knew she would never do what I needed if I asked her outright. She had to be pushed into it."

Achilles rolled his eyes. "Listen to yourself, you sound like all of this was a game. That she was nothing but a piece to be moved around as you willed, no matter what she wanted or what the cost. Did you care about her at all?"

"Of course I did," Griffarius replied. "I trusted her. Why do you think I asked her to come here? I knew that no matter the problems between us, she would support me."

Achilles hunched over, resting his forearms on his thighs, staring into space as he absently swirled the wine in his goblet. Griffarius watched him, taking in how empty and lifeless the famed warrior now was, and cursing himself for letting his plan go so horribly awry.

"What will you do now?" Griffarius asked.

"Get myself killed in battle. What else is left for me?" Achilles asked bleakly.

"There are Hippolyta, Caystrius and Otrerion," Griffarius replied.

Achilles furrowed his brow and turned to look at Griffarius. "Your children?"

"They're not mine, Achilles," Griffarius said. "They're yours."

Achilles stared in absolute shock, his mind having stuttered to a halt. Seeing this, Griffarius took a draught of wine before talking.

"Why do you think you dreamt of her so often for so many years? It wasn't a coincidence. It was your mother, and Penny's mother Otrere. They were pregnant at the same time, and met when they went to the Delphic Oracle. They were told that if their children united, they would found a clan that would be more powerful than any before or after it. A clan that would form an empire that would last a thousand years. Otrere and Thetis agreed that they would work their magic to ensure that you and Penny met on the astral planes. For years, they guided your dreams, until you grew old enough to meet on your own. Then one night, you impregnated her on the astral plane, and Otrere and Thetis made sure that your seed came back with her when she returned to her body. It happened right around the time when Penny challenged me when she was 15, so she thought I was the father."

"Then why did you take them?" Achilles asked.

"Because she didn't want to be reminded that I'd bested her," Griffarius replied. "She laid claim to them, of course, but sent them to me "for training". But now… they should know their father."

Achilles shook his head. "I'm a stranger to them. And a stranger I'll remain. I wasn't meant to settle down and grow old, it seems. Fate has other plans for me. But… you will tell them I loved her?"

Griffarius nodded silently, knowing he wouldn't be able to change Achilles' mind. A few silent minutes later, he left the tent, knowing he wouldn't see Achilles alive again.

Achilles' mind drifted back to his men as he ran through Ilium, fighting back a grunt of pain as he put pressure on the barely-healed stab wound. Penthesilea had aimed her blow well; her sword had damaged the muscle beneath the skin. It would have taken months to heal completely. He probably should not have volunteered to take part in the razing of the city, but he knew it would be his only chance to slip away from the army. In light of that, the pain was meaningless. The physical pain was nothing, especially considering he would be put out of his emotional pain soon enough. He had issued a final order to Eudoras, to sail the men to the relay point without him. Griffarius would meet them there before bringing them to Themiskyra to join the Amazons, and they would be safe. Griffarius would lead them to a safe place, where they could prosper together, out of the reach of Agamemnon's arm.

As the Greeks started to raze the town and let the army in, Achilles headed for the palace, searching for the prophetess Cassandra. He found her in a private courtyard, staring up blankly at the statue of Apollo, patron god of Troy.

"I knew you would come here," she said, her voice gravelly and revealing the trance she was in, as she spoke without turning. "I knew it the moment I saw the fate of the Amazon Queen."

"Then you know why I'm here," Achilles said, taking a step forward.

Cassandra nodded, holding up her hand and offering a piece of jewelry to Achilles. He closed his hand around the leather thong, on which were fastened seven stones of tourmaline and carnelian.

"She waits for you in Elysium," she said.

A sudden pain in his heel made Achilles whip around, to see Griffarius lowering a bow. He looked down to see an arrow had gone through his ankle. Not that he cared; in fact, he was grateful. His heel was his only physical weakness. Wound that, and he would die.

He looked at Griffarius as his vision began to fog over. He saw no emnity or condemnation in Griffarius' eyes; only understanding that this was the only choice. Achilles nodded once, silently giving Griffarius his thanks, before the breath left his body and he sank to the ground, giving up his spirit.

* * *

Elysian Fields

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking as the sunlight filled his vision. For a moment, he just lay in the grass, enjoying the sunlight, the breeze, the warmth, the quiet.

When he finally sat up, he found himself in a place of gently rolling hills. A variety of trees dotted the landscape, and in the distance he could see a herd of horses running free. The sky was achingly blue, the grass deeply green, the sunlight impossibly golden. It was still, and quiet… it was his idea of paradise.

"I wondered how long it would take before you joined the party."

Achilles stood upon hearing the voice of his beloved cousin. The younger man smiled in welcome as the two briefly embraced.

"We've been waiting for you," Patroclus said.

Achilles looked at his cousin, unusually hesitant. "Where is she?"

Patroclus grinned at this unknown side of his cousin, and pointed off a ways. Under a nearby olive tree stood a cluster of three women dressed in floor-length flowing robes and crowned with flowers.

He hadn't said a word, but one of the women lifted her head. Achilles' gaze locked with Penthesilea's, and for an infinite moment they just looked at one another. She broke away from her sister and mother and slowly walked forward, meeting him halfway. The scent of iris, the flowers that had been tucked into the ivy of the wreath on her head, wrapped around him.

"Penthesilea," he whispered.

"Hello, Achilles," she said softly.

He took her hand and looked down, unusually subdued. "Penthe… Had we lived… Would you have left it all behind? Would you have come to Phthia with me and been my bride?"

For a moment, she was silent, merely looking down at their entwined hands. Slowly, she raised her head, and her gaze again found his.

"Yes," she whispered. "For you, I would have given up the world."

He gathered her into his arms then, claiming her as his own in a gentle but passionate kiss. It no longer mattered that their lives had been cut short; now they had eternity.

* * *

The decades and centuries would roll by, and the humanity of the figures would be lost, forgotten. Penthesilea's petulance and brashness would be transformed by poets into a noble battle-glory; Achilles' human frailties would be lost in his divinity.

But though these mortals would transcend humanity and enter the surreality of mythology, there was one aspect of their story that could never be altered. History would ever remember their love as one of the greatest tragic romances of all time. Fathers would tell their sons of the moment they watched Achilles cradle Penthesilea's broken body; girls would grow up dreaming of a warrior who would honor them as Achilles had his one true lady love.

And they in their romance became as the immortals, forever remembered, forever honored.


End file.
